Ponyboy and the Seven Socy Midgets
by ConfuzzledAtLife
Summary: An Outsiders Fairy Tale: Snow White. Ponyboy, Defender of the Alliance, has been thrown from his castle and almost murdered by his evil older brother. What's a poor greaser prince to do?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: **WARNINGS: **References to "creepy ginger kids", making jokes about ADHD (I'm allowed since I have it), drug references, possible future passing references to slash in a humourous context (there will be no sex scenes), abuse of legal drugs (namely the Pill), Curtis-bashing, Justin Beiber-bashing, thinly veiled jokes about the financial crisis (I'm allowed since I lost a house).

X X X X

Once upon a time in a kingdom far, far away (unless you perchance live in Oklahoma City; if you do, kindly relocate yourself to Alaska so the rest of us may read this story) there lived a kindly king and a gentle queen in Castle Tulsa. Unless of course you're referring to the day a certain misbehaving child broke the family portrait by trying to ride his brother's pony through the halls. Then the king was not kindly and the queen not gentle, and the poor boy's faith in humanity was forever shattered.

All stories of child abuse aside (except for this one, which does contain an alarming amount of child abuse), there once lived a kindly king and a gentle queen. They had three sons. The eldest they named Darrel, and they raised him well, as he would one day have to take over the throne and rule Tulsa with an iron fist – whoops, I mean steady hand. Once they had the first son, the parents knew their lineage was secure forever, and so had no problems becoming addicted to drugs and, in the middle of a frenzy of cocaine, managed to accidentally tell their chief advisor their son's name was Sodapop instead of ordering a cool beverage, which is what they had been _trying _to tell him. One must partake in a cool beverage after giving birth, you see.

Their youngest son was conceived and born in an entirely different fashion. You see, the queen decided she did not want any more children, as the last two had been supreme disappointments, and so she overdosed on the contraceptive pill. Fortunately her cocaine addiction saved her life; she had by now such a high resistance to drugs that she was not killed by the drastic overdose, but simply became infertile for life.

She was quite happy at this development, for though Darrel was strong of body and would rule with a – ahem – steady hand, he was supremely intellectually challenged and could not say more than two syllables, so his name became Darry; it was simpler for him to remember. As for her younger son, well _he _seemed to have a rather nasty case of ADHD which made him, if possible, even stupider than the last one. He was also incredibly vain; the only thing he ever managed to concentrate on was a mirror.

However, the queen's heart was weary. If only she had the perfect son she could love with all her heart! Oh, what she wouldn't give for a child who could read!

Many years passed (though in fact, it was only two) and the queen's need became more dire. It was as she was repairing the king's robe at the window (Sodapop had set it aflame with a flamethrower made from Axe deodorant and a candle) that she sighed, and said to herself her heart's desire.

She gasped as she pricked her finger, and a drop of blood fell onto the scrapyard under her window (Tulsa was not as wealthy a kingdom as neighbouring Canadia).

That drop of blood must have been a magic charm, for soon after a friend's ecstasy pill cured the queen of infertilism (not that that is a word, nor possible) and the queen fell pregnant. Nine months later, she gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. Unfortunately, the queen was still high on ecstasy and so was her king, and so they decided to name their child a name that would hopefully encourage him to consider a career in superheroism, or, if he preferred, professional Dungeons and Dragons: Ponyboy, Defender of the Alliance.

It was both a joyous and a tragic night for the kingdom of Tulsa, for sadly, after naming her baby, the queen discovered she had actually given birth to a creepy ginger kid. "Oh, my!" she cried, and died on the spot.

The king decided it was not fair that he should have to raise an imbecile, a pyromaniac with ADHD _and _a creepy ginger kid while his wife could enjoy eternal rest, and so he allowed Sodapop to play target practice on him. He died tragically from a javelin to the heart.

Darry was too stupid to consider suicide and so decided to raise the two boys alone, for he was noble of mind, er, _very _deep down, even though he was merely seven.

As the years passed, Darry retained the mind of a five year old and ruled the kingdom as a figurehead. Little did the subjects know that it was actually Sodapop who was ruling the kingdom, whispering poisonous words to the king's brain and demanding he do what was told of him. Sodapop was slipping further and further into the grips of evil. He found torturing cats and setting houses on fire was no longer of interest to him, and so, unbeknownst to the others, he began to partake in Magicke Moste Fowle.

In contrast to his stupid older brother and his evil middle brother, Ponyboy was growing more good and pure by the day. Much to Sodapop's chagrin, his creepy ginger kid looks were slowly vanishing and giving way to soft, auburn hair that tumbled down his head in much the same way that squirrels do not lay eggs. He was polite and soft spoken, never taking advantage of King Darry's stupidity, but always aiding him to select who he would prefer to torture prisoners with: Jesse McCartney or Justin Beiber. Ponyboy always kindly showed him that Justin Beiber was the more torturous of the pair.

Sodapop watched his brother grow with festering jealousy. _He _was the more beautiful. _He _should be the one to select which torture methods to use, not Ponyboy. Sodapop's morning ritual (trying to score a date with himself in the mirror) was plagued with more and more doubts, that is until he made an Astonishing Discovery.

_Two-Bit, the Mirror of Everlasting Truth._

He had to have it.

X X X X

**A/N**: Written during an exam and later refined. (I finished very early).


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: You may have noticed this is _not _to be taken seriously. It's light, mostly personal humour that got me through an exam, nothing more.

I own nothing.

X X X X

Sodapop ordered Two-Bit, the Mirror of Everlasting Truth, from eBay. He knew that once it arrived, it would surely tell him he was the more beautiful. Because he was. He was certain of it. In fact, he didn't even _need _a mirror to tell him that. Nope. Not at all.

Still, it did not hurt to be reassured of one's merits, and so Sodapop waited the six-to-eight-weeks for the delivery of Two-Bit in growing anxiety. He tricked Ponyboy's friend Johnny, who was scared of him, into dying Ponyboy's hair blonde instead of just shampooing it, but unfortunately the colour actually _suited _him. That made Sodapop mad. _He_ couldn't pull off that shade.

Anyway, six to eight weeks later Two-Bit the magic mirror arrived. By this time the kingdom had fallen into disarray, as Sodapop had not been influencing Darry to make any decisions and Ponyboy had been trying to tell his oldest brother to "use his best judgment". Darry had demolished a hospital as he thought it was putting his people in pain. He did not think about the benefits, but then, Darry rarely thought.

Sodapop had ordered Ponyboy to bring the mirror down to his Basement of Evil, as he himself felt far too royally awesome to stoop as low as carrying something heavy. Ponyboy didn't look so nice once he had sweat pouring from his body. Mwahahaha.

Ordering Ponyboy from his chambers with a great flourish that made Sodapop feel far more important than he actually was, the unofficial dictator of the kingdom pulled the coverings from Two-Bit's glassy surface. He gazed upon it, noting how the frame rather resembled scrunched up old issues of _Playboy_. He smoothed one of the sheets out, and discovered that indeed, it was scrunched up centerfolds of various porn magazines, though not the very good ones, the cheap ones like _Zoo_ (Australian reference, readers don't get 'em), stuck onto a cheap steel sheet. But Sodapop did not care about the strange looking mole on Miss October's thigh. He cared about the mirror.

Instead of seeing his own gorgeous reflection in the mirror, Sodapop looked on a stoned looking guy who seriously needed to be recommended a barber – his sideburns were _ridiculous_. Still, Sodapop was not going to point this out. He needed this mirror to compliment him. Yes, he was what one might describe as desperate.

"Well, good morning, good looking," the mirror drawled. "You need a date?"

Sodapop screwed up his nose in distaste. "Judging by the literary content surrounding you, O Mirror, I would have believed _you _are more inclined to those who are… slightly larger in the chest department." No way was Sodapop going to destroy his class by making any lewd comments… at least, not with company, he wasn't.

Two-Bit the mirror sighed. "Yeah, but when you're 2D and haven't had a date in eons, I just want something that has red blood cells," he said. "I'm really lonely."

"Don't care," said Sodapop prissily. "Mirror mirror, covered in porn, who is the prettiest this fair morn?"

"This fair morn, it ring true, none in the kingdom has skin soft as you."

Sodapop glowed. He did moisturize, after all. It only made sense he was the more fair. Ha, stupid Ponyboy, probably up in his room literally wiping the sweat from his body! That sure showed _him_!

X X X X

The next day, Sodapop was just putting Ponyboy's childhood fluffy toy in the fireplace and enjoying the smell of artificial dye burning when he saw Ponyboy come out from his chamber. He had clearly copied his clothes from Lady Gaga, and it was just last week Sodapop had seen Rachel sporting the exact same hairstyle on _Glee_, but somehow, infuriatingly, he managed to pull it off! How did he do it? How the _hell _could he do that?"

Sodapop let out a furious shriek, totally losing it and throwing Darry's morning martini into the wall. He knew he'd get away with it: the castle staff let him do anything so long as he blamed it on the ADHD, and Darry was too damn stupid to realize his martini was gone for a few hours anyway. Ponyboy wasn't though, and he knew exactly how Sodapop used ADHD as an excuse to be naughty (not in _that _way, freaks!), so he realized at once that something had pissed Sodapop off bad. He blinked at him with those stupid large, innocent eyes, and Sodapop screamed so high that he shattered Darry's morning cup of coffee. Darry looked at the cup handle stupidly, wondering where the rest had gone and wondering where the burning sensation originated at. But Sodapop was not in a mood to do anything about that.

He stormed out of the dining hall, down to his room where Two-Bit was located. Ripping off the sheet he had put there to stop Two-Bit ogling him and his red blood cells while he dressed, he cried in a very high voice, "Mirror mirror, covered in porn, who's the prettiest this fair morn?"

And Two-Bit replied, "As true as it is that you have not bathed yet, the prettiest is the one that yesterday was covered in sweat."

Sodapop's chest heaved with fury, and the tantrums started. He began hurling things into the wall, screaming obscenities, pretending the objects he threw were Ponyboy's head. Sodapop was no stranger to murder; he had, after all, killed his father, but only because he had asked for it. But now, it was different. No one could be handsomer than him. No one. This time, it was personal.

X X X X

**A/N**: You know you need a life when you start rhyming "porn" with "morn".


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Further warning for jokes about people with germ phobias. No offence intended. I have a phobia too and I do know in reality it's very hard to deal with.

X X X X

"So, what exactly is it you wish to do?" asked Ponyboy sweetly as he followed Steve out of the horrendously dilapidated castle. Darry was too stupid to collect taxes to fix it, and any taxes Sodapop collected went into his David Bowie shrine. Sodapop loved David Bowie.

"Oh, we're just going to collect some… _things _for my, er, clinical study," Steve finished lamely. He was speaking from behind a surgeon's mask, for as a misophobic, Steve was absolutely terrified of germs. He never went outside, but he made an exception this time, as Sodapop was his best friend – yet another thing his shrink classified as a "crazy symptom". His shrink did not like Sodapop.

Steve had been asked to take Ponyboy out into the woods to kill him. His cover story would be that he was collecting dirt samples to study the germs in them. Steve's motto was "know thy enemy".

Ponyboy took in all the wonders of the world around him. As they went further from the castle, his heart grew freer and more pronounced with the utmost purity he had been bestowed with in his ecstasy induced birth. Soon he could not but help grazing petal soft fingers against petal soft flowers, and even the great trees seemed to sway with the power of his wonderfulness.

In fact, Ponyboy felt so good he just had to let it out. And what better way to let it out then to just… _sing_… "_The hills are alive with the sound of music_…" he began.

"ARRRRGGHH!" Steve yelled, spinning and grabbing Ponyboy's head, slamming his jaws together. "Do you have _any idea_ how many germs can be released from your throat and lungs when you sing?" he hissed.

Not feeling quite so wonderful and pure now, Ponyboy was a little subdued as Steve released him and went to wash his hands in a nearby brook. He decided against singing again, which disappointed him as he had the entire soundtrack to _Grease _memorized in preparation for this outing. Ponyboy was the most humble, modest person in all of the kingdom Tulsa, but even he knew he had a singing voice like a box of Ferrero Rocher.

They walked and walked, further and further into the woods. Ponyboy began to worry about Darry; it was nearing time for lunch and he had to get back and make sure Darry knew the difference between fork and knife.

Steve finally stopped. "I'm afraid you must stay here," he said solemnly. "You will surely be overcome with germs by the end of the day, and die. I have been told to kill you here, as none may be more beautiful than the prince, but I know you shall die shortly, and have no need of my assistance in that regard. Prince Sodapop is too ADHD to have listened in class to the health risks of being left in the forest, alone…"

Steve wandered off into the bushes, still mumbling to himself. Alone now, Ponyboy wrung his hands in trepidation. As the narrator of a famous book that would one day become over five thousand stories on a website for amateur writers with not enough creativity to create their own characters, he knew he possessed Main Character Immortality, unlike those poor suckers Johnny and Dally and to a lesser not-quite-canon extent Soda, so he was not entirely afraid. However, Ponyboy knew authors did not like him much, and many gained much pleasure from putting him in uncomfortable, dangerous, or painful situations. Thus, Ponyboy wrung his hands in trepidation.

Well, as long as he was young and there was no Steve hanging off him, he might as well sing. He decided not to sing some stupid Julie Andrews song this time. He sang some off little song about sexy bitches as he skipped through the forest, never a thought as to where he was going. After all, he had Main Character Immortality. He was the one person in the entire Realm of Fandom who could actually afford to play in traffic.

As he moved further and further into the forest, he began to notice something. The beat of the song was no longer imaginary. He could hear it, coming through the trees. Someone was having a party!

If there was one thing young Ponyboy liked, it was a party. All the lights and sounds, and the pretty boys and girls in pretty outfits, the food, the atmosphere… He supposed it had something to do with being conceived by ecstasy pills.

He skipped towards the sound of the song. As he broke the trees, he spied the largest house he'd ever seen. It was bigger and better than Castle Tulsa, which was actually fairly small and run-down. This house had a fountain in the front. As Ponyboy approached, he realized it was a fountain of beer.

The fountain made a choking sound, then spurted a huge stream of beer up into the sky. Ponyboy clapped his hands in glee. "Oh my!" he cried. "It's literally a beer blast!" He simply couldn't wait to explore the rest of that wonderful, wonderful house.

X X X X

**A/N**: I'd update my other fic, but I have loads of homework I wasn't able to do on the weekend because I busted my spine. Now it's all bruised from the chiropracting I got… So I'm way behind on homework, I wanted to update something and my other fic requires too much thought and therefore time. Sorry.

Also sorry to FFN authors. That reference to you was mostly a reference to me.


	4. Chapter 4

Ponyboy was the prince of a nation – or rather, the prince of Tulsa, which was really little more than a dilapidated castle and a few shacks – but he knew whoever lived here mustn't have as much status as he had. As such, he knew he did not need to knock; they would surely bow before him when they learned who he was.

There was no one in the grand entrance hall, so Ponyboy made his way towards an oddly short door at the other side of the room. He was not finished growing yet, but even he would scrape his head going through that. Ponyboy had tried teaching Darry to duck for an entire month last year, unsuccessfully. Darry was simply too stupid. It had entertained Sodapop though, who had cackled insanely every time Darry's head smashed against the low branch.

Sighing and breaking away from his whimsical musings of the home he was banished from, Ponyboy focused on the music coming from behind the door. He did so love parties, and it was almost enough to make him forget that he was unwanted. He reached out and turned the knob, expecting to see scores of partying teenagers. He was disappointed, however. There were only… _seven_? No. No, this couldn't be right! Seven was the number of failed parties, parties that Ponyboy used to host. He wasn't the most popular prince in Tulsa.

The seven boys' heads whipped around, and they fixed him with angry looks. Ponyboy was almost blinded at the amount of bling revealed as the boys turned around. "Who are you?" one asked.

Ponyboy knew Sodapop would probably order the death penalty if he were questioned like this, but Ponyboy was just too nice. He smiled at them. "I am Prince Ponyboy, come from the Castle Tulsa, here to visit you," he said with a winning smile.

The boys looked unimpressed. "_Prince_? _Castle_? We don't like _royalty_. They take taxes, and we quite enjoy our wallets."

"I don't," said Ponyboy, voice sweet as honey and dripping with sincerity. "In fact, I am little more than a peasant now. I have been disinherited, disheartened, made homeless. They even took my American Express!"

All of a sudden, the eyes of the seven boys softened. "Oh, you _poor _thing!" said one who looked like a drag queen. "We have to let him stay here!"

"Not meaning any offence," said Ponyboy, because he couldn't _bear _to offend anyone, "but may I speak to your parents?"

All while this was being said, the music was still blaring in the background. Perhaps Ponyboy had not noticed because the conversation was just so riveting, perhaps because the author was too incompetent to handle more than one thing at a time. Either way, it filled the painful silence that ensued.

"We're adults," one said finally.

Ponyboy was gobsmacked. These were surely children! They were ever so small! "No!" he cried in shock.

"Yes," insisted the same. "We are cursed… forced never to grow taller than five feet, for we are descended from the great and mighty Cal, who we honour as often as plotline allows, for she is great and mighty, yet tiny. My name is Randy, because I'm always horny." He pointed to the rest in turn. "That's Bob, because he always insists on a bad haircut; Cherry the drag queen who was once Frank; that's Edward and Jacob – they have a thing going but we pretend to know nothing; Steve Jobs – he steals our stuff, draws apples on them and sells them back to us for a ridiculously high price; and Sarah Palin."

"Howdy!" said Sarah Palin, polishing a rifle in the corner. "I like this one, Randy. He's got the perfect physique for mini golf."

Ponyboy flushed. One would think that spending a childhood being chased around by Sodapop with a flamethrower would make him a more muscular person. One would be wrong. Perhaps it had something to do with his ecstasy induced conception, but Ponyboy had the body of a drug addict.

X X X X

Back in Castle Tulsa, Sodapop was busy playing Angry Birds. No, he did not have an iPhone. This is a 1960's fandom fic set in a castle; where on earth would he get an iPhone? Anyway, Sodapop was busy playing Angry Birds… _without _an iPhone.

He had spent the morning watching his slaves build him a course of wood, stone and ice, and place pigs inside it. Now he had the castle slingshot, and he was going to use it.

He selected a red robin. It would have flown away and ruined everything, but Sodapop had prepared and had spent the morning carefully burning off its wings. Oh, _come now_, are you surprised? He _is _the villain here!

Sodapop placed the bird in the slingshot and pulled back, lining it up with the pig he wanted to hit. He let fly, managing to completely miss. He let out an unholy screech, clenching his fists in rage as his subjects cowered before him. "GAH!" he cried. "Burn it! Burn it all!"

"B-but sire, there are still pigs inside!" objected one very brave, very stupid girl.

"I said burn it all, now _burn it all_, goddammit!" Sodapop cried. "Off with her head!"

"Sire!" cried the girl. "That's the wrong fairy tale!"

"_Alice in Wonderland _is not a fairy tale, stupid girl!" Sodapop screeched. "And they say _I _have learning disabilities! Fine! You shall be castrated, and _then _shall your head come OFF!"

And with that, Sodapop stormed off. The girl was too timid to point out that she was, in fact, a female.

Sodapop stormed up to his room. He had killed another family member, but he did not feel quite so satisfied as he had when he had killed his father. He would consult his mirror, then he would go after Darry, just to make himself feel better. Sodapop rather liked being the king's puppetmaster, more than he would like being the king himself.

Ripping away the blanket (Two-Bit was still horny for his cells) Sodapop asked the old question, "Mirror mirror, covered in porn, who's the prettiest this fair morn?"

And Two-Bit replied, "Your looks are unmatched in Castle Tulsa, but Ponyboy still sleeps with a rooster."

Sodapop's chest heaved with rage. He was not having a good morning.

X X X X

**A/N**: Found the intros boring, so did not spend long on em. Anyone who doesn't know: Steve Jobs is the CEO of Apple. Was written in an hour while high on hormones in the middle of the night and totally unbetaed so not the best but w/e.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N**: More warnings, this time for stereotyping the Irish. I'm allowed since I'm Irish (though I've never been there, half Irish, half Scottish, teensy bit English and teensy bit Aboriginal Australian I am) and since I'm religious I don't actually drink and I never will, so I don't believe my own stereotyping myself.

X X X X

Ponyboy woke slowly the following morning. The cracks of daylight shone in, burning right through his lids and assaulting his eyes. It was oddly painful light, and it seemed to be armed with a thousand tiny needles that seemed intent on detaching his retina. Groaning, and noticing that the groan, too was painful, Ponyboy opened his eyes.

What had _happened _last night? All he could remember was arriving in the most wonderful house in Tulsa, being introduced to a bunch of short asses, then being dragged outside and having his head shoved in the fountain. An initiation rite, Randy had called it. He had to drink and drink until he had drunk enough of the beer in the fountain that he could breathe again. And oh, he had been happy to do it! Ponyboy suspected from his creepy ginger kid looks that he was descended from Irishmen, and the beer in the fountain sure tasted like a nice pint of Guinness. All in all, it was a most satisfying night.

His hands were wrapped around something soft, and when he looked he spied a chicken. It clucked indignantly and then flapped its wings until he let it go. How had a chicken ended up in his arms?

He sat up, ignoring his pounding headache, and realized that he was in a barn. What was even more startling was the fact that Cherry, the midget in drag, was lying in a stupor next to him.

Oh dear. He had sworn after Darry's erectile dysfunction and Sodapop's pure sluttiness that he'd treat a girl – yes, that's right, _girl _– right. He'd wait until marriage to screw her, because that was the _gallant _thing to do. And he'd make sure she reached… you know, the Big O. He had _not _planned on a drunken romp with a _guy_.

He shook Cherry a little violently. He – she – what was the PC term? – awoke slowly, with much bitching and moaning. "Cherry!" Ponyboy said loudly. "Did we sleep together?"

Cherry's eyes cracked open. "Clearly we did, honey," s/he confirmed. "But we didn't _sleep together _sleep together – don't worry; I'm saving myself for David Bowie."

Ponyboy remembered Sodapop's shrine to that man, and he imagined the catfight that would ensue if Sodapop and Cherry ever were to meet. It was actually rather funny.

Deciding he'd go inside in search of some Vicodin for his hangover (due to his ecstasy induced conception Ponyboy had a very high tolerance for drugs), Ponyboy stood up and ambled back to the house, going in through the back door. Edward and Jacob were sprawled on top of one another on a couch, and Edward seemed to have had a little accident with the body glitter as most of it was in his hair. Ponyboy didn't envy him the task of washing it.

He found some Vicodin and some fun looking blue pills to go with it, and he also located a good old fashioned pint glass. He made his way outside to satisfy the cravings of his Irish roots, taking the pint glass and scooping up a nice lot of Guinness from the fountain and using it to chug down the pills.

It might have been the dangerous combination of alcohol and prescription medicine, or it might have been the fact that Ponyboy was suddenly outrageously in need of something to screw, but he saw a pantomime horse coming his direction. It was blue and poorly made, looking much like the pantomime horse that had been given to Darry at his birth – Darry got a lot more presents than Sodapop and Ponyboy at birth, as nobody seemed to care about babies once the lineage to the throne was secure. But Ponyboy had no idea why old Mickey Mouse would be here, at the wonderful house of happy hallucinations.

The horse trotted up, and though the front half stopped once it reached Ponyboy, the back half seemed to want to keep walking, and a very odd amount of shuffling around occurred inside the poorly made suit.

Inside the horse, Sodapop was hissing insults at Darry. "What are you trying to do, walk up my ass? Are you _really _that _stupid_? You're lucky you're the king, or your head would _so _be coming off right about now!"

Darry let out a stupid sounding cackle, and Sodapop focused more on the task at hand.

Ponyboy giggled, feeling the Vicodin high kick in. "Hey, Mickey Mouse!" he yelled, waving his arms flamboyantly. "Welcome to the house of dreams!"

"_Whatever_!" cried Mickey Mouse. "Shut up, you stupid boy! Listen. I have come with a gift!" Inside the horse, Sodapop took the candy bar from his pocket and stuck his hand through the mouth of the horse, passing the candy bar out to Ponyboy. "Eat it, and you will become the most beautiful person in the world!" Oh, how Sodapop loved lying!

Meanwhile, Ponyboy was having an attack of the munchies. He did not suspect a thing; all he saw was a candy bar on offer, so he took it and crammed it in his mouth.

Sodapop waited for the telltale thud. When he heard the body hit the ground, he almost jumped for joy. Ponyboy would soon be dead, and it would be _he _who was the most gorgeoustest person in all of Tulsa!

X X X X

**A/N**: Not the best. Shut up. I needed light entertainment before bed; I've been having _awful_ nightmares. So will Sodapop's plan succeed? You don't know; I might just change the ending!


End file.
